


Full Hearts

by Johannas_Motivational_Insults



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: F/F, Future Fic, architect catra, contractor adora, honestly is anything more gay?, shameless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-05-19 20:56:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19364005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johannas_Motivational_Insults/pseuds/Johannas_Motivational_Insults
Summary: Destruction was easy. Rebuilding, that took effort.





	1. Nails

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came into my head and wouldn't leave, and I kinda needed a break from the doom and gloom of Demons, so this happened. Have some future Catradora fluff! There will be another chapter coming later, btw.

The tip of Catra’s tail flicks from side to side, her weight on her hands braced on the edge of her desk. While she pores over the incomplete plans on the desktop with narrowed eyes, her fingers twitch repetitively, rapping out an erratic rhythm with her pencil.

“Damn it, Sparkles…” she mutters.

As usual, the princess is being a pain in her ass. She was irritating as an enemy, but at least back then Catra could mostly ignore her. As an ally and friend, Catra has to tolerate her more annoying attributes, like her strangely specific tastes in architecture. Adora insists Catra’s an artist and always has been, but artistic expression was never prioritized in the Horde, to say the least. The math and science parts of her job come easier to her.

Catra shifts her weight, jutting out one hip to adjust the strain on her legs. She could sit, but she prefers standing or pacing as she works, some way to feel active. Acclimatizing to peace has been difficult, especially for someone raised solely for war. Every day is still a battle, only with restlessness. Even once the war was over, Catra trained and sparred nearly every day. She still does, when she can make the time. It’s the best way to unwind, clear her mind.

Combat is hardly a full life, though. Catra’s career essentially ended with the war, and with it her sense of self. She hated feeling useless, it reminded her too much of most of her life, so she sought out a new craft to excel at. It was Bow who suggested she channel her tactical talents into creating things, rather than destroying them. Catra has to admit it was rather fitting that she was the one to rebuild much of Bright Moon after the role she’d played in destroying it.

Well, she didn’t rebuild it on her own. She doesn’t spend much time at the actual construction sites, at least not anymore. Early on she did, because to her it felt like something of a penance, a way to make up for her past misdeeds. Also, it was a great excuse to spend time near Adora, who was spearheading much of the actual construction.

Things were still a little awkward and faltering back then. They were technically friends again, but they didn’t really hang out unless there was a reason for them to be together. So Catra came up with reasons, inspecting the sites and helping with odd jobs. If she so happened to rub up against Adora, she could claim her innocence in the matter. Or behave very non-innocently, as the case may be.

_“Pass me some more nails?” Adora requested absently, not even looking up from her kneeling position hammering down floorboards._

_Catra glanced over from the half-built chair on her workbench. “What was that, Princess?” she asked with a wicked grin. “You want me to nail you?”_

_That got Adora’s attention. Her head snapped up, cheeks flushing bright red. “What? No! I- what? That’s not what I said.”_

_“Oh, you want these?” Catra prowled closer, the bag of nails swinging teasingly from one of her claws. She bent over to close the gap, tempting Adora with a view of her cleavage. “You gonna ask nicely?”_

_Adora squinted up at her, thoroughly unamused, but Catra didn’t miss the quick detour her eyes made. “Can I_ please _have the nails?”_

_Her ears pricked up, a tiny purr rumbling in the back of her throat. “Mm, I love it when you beg. On your knees, too.”_

_“Catra!”_

_“Fine.” Catra dropped the bag beside her with a dramatic sigh. “You’re no fun.”_

_Adora scowled. “Screw you, I‘m lots of fun.”_

_Unable to believe her luck, Catra cackled with mirth. “So first you want me to nail you, and now you wanna screw me?” She waggled her eyebrows at Adora’s mortified expression._

_“Shut up, Catra,” she snapped, directing her burning face at the floorboards._

_“I guess you know how to have fun after all,” grinned Catra, heading back to the workbench. “And here I thought you were a total tight ass.”_

_“Pfft, you’re the one with the tight ass,” muttered Adora. Catra glanced over her shoulder in surprise and found Adora with a hand clamped over her own mouth, eyes wide with shock._

_“Mm, thanks for noticing.” Catra wiggled her butt a little, throwing Adora a sultry wink. Her tail betrayed her true emotions with a pleased flick, which she could only hope Adora didn’t notice. Apparently she was too embarrassed to clue in, as she quickly returned her attention to her work._

_Despite the awkwardness of their tentative flirtation, a comfortable silence fell between them. A silence more comfortable than any they’d shared in a while._

_“I’ve missed this, you know,” murmured Adora. Catra’s mouth slipped open slightly and her eyes bounced over to Adora just as hers flicked up shyly. With a tiny smirk, she specified, “You being a dipshit.”_

_Catra laughed, a genuine cackle that brought a bright smile to Adora’s lips. “Yeah, well, I’ve missed you being a killjoy.”_

_“Not true!” protested Adora. “Who painted Grizzlor’s toenails when he fell asleep on duty? Who stole that skiff and took you for a joyride?”_

Oh, you mean the day you abandoned me.

_It was right on the tip of Catra’s tongue, it would have been so easy to say. And the vulnerable look on Adora’s face told Catra she had realized her mistake and was waiting for her to utter those cutting words. She could have, but the problem was, she didn’t want to hurt Adora anymore. Besides, she didn’t like Adora thinking so little of her. She wanted to prove her wrong. Prove she could be better._

_“Yeah, remind me never to let you drive again,” Catra replied with a dismissive snort._

_The relief of being spared another guilt trip seemed to throw Adora off, and it took her a second to retort, “You’re the one who crashed it.”_

_“It didn’t crash, your clumsy ass fell off. Not my fault you drove yourself into a vine, dummy.”_

_“If you hadn’t been so reckless-” Catra cut Adora off with a warning glare, and her eyes fell to the floor. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…” Adora sighed, scratching her neck. When she eventually looked back up, her gaze was both pensive and apologetic. “If I hadn’t been so against giving you control we wouldn’t have been fighting over it in the first place,” she mused with a shrug. “Maybe you would’ve been more careful when you got the chance.”_

_This was still new. Both of them had spent so long blaming the other, it was hard not to revert back to old habits. The effort on Adora’s part warmed Catra’s heart, and she let her off the hook with a playful “Eh, probably not.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, anyway. When Adora returned her mischievous smile with an affectionate one, some impulse took over and she spoke without thinking. “You wanna go do something after we’re done here?”_

_Adora’s brow crinkled. “Like what?”_

_“I dunno. Hang out, go for a walk?” Catra’s eyes lit up with a new thought. “Oh, we could spar!” Haltingly she tacked on, “...Grab a meal in the market first?”_

_“I’d love to,” Adora said with a soft smile. Suddenly clearing her throat, she grinned in a poor attempt to distract Catra from her blush. “I mean, you know I’m always down to spar.”_

_Catra shot her a knowing smirk. “Of course.”_

While Catra mostly works from home these days, Adora’s still on the front lines, as it were. Right now she’s off helping build one of Catra’s latest projects, hauling around logs and boulders in She-Ra form because she can’t stand the feeling of idleness. Adjusting to peacetime has been hard for her, too. Even more than Catra, Adora needs purpose. It’s beyond difficult to get her to relax a little, to pull her away from her work for more than a day at a time. Except for when Catra has her cycles and usurps all of Adora’s attention for days on end…

Catra feels herself flush slightly at the thought and shakes her head. She needs to concentrate, damn it, and there’s no use thinking about that right now. Maybe when Adora gets home, if she’s not too wiped from a day of hard labor. In her younger years Catra could have counted her blessings on one hand, but now she’s blessed with an attentive and diligent wife.

The word still makes Catra smile, that word that means Adora is hers. That’s all she ever wanted. Admittedly she declined Adora’s offer several times before accepting, because she thought the whole thing was stupid, but eventually she came around. She’s glad she did. The mutual commitment has given them both a sense of security they lacked for most of their lives. Plus, Bright Moon threw them a pretty amazing party after the weird ceremony thing. Adora looked so damn beautiful in that dress. It’s a shame, the mess Catra made of it later with her claws, but she’s never been known for her patience.

A crash from the other room makes Catra startle into a defensive stance, yelp slightly as her heart jumps into her throat. Alert eyes flash into the hall and then roll as she realizes what the commotion is.

“Uh oh…” mutters a young voice from down the hall, confirming Catra’s suspicions. Aisha must be building block towers again, one of her latest obsessions. Catra and Adora like to playfully argue about which one of them she’s emulating, who she’ll take after. Whether she’ll be a designer or a builder. A strategist or a grunt.

Apparently she isn’t very good at either yet, because her towers keep collapsing.

Returning her attention to the canvas before her, Catra takes a few deep breaths to settle her nerves and trembling hands. Humming to herself, she taps her pencil absentmindedly against the desk. This latest guest house design Glimmer has commissioned from her is especially tricky in terms of aesthetics. Even after living in Bright Moon for almost a decade, Catra still doesn’t understand exactly what makes these people tick. The castle is so hopelessly ornate, uselessly so, and Catra doesn’t get what that style would look like ‘toned down’. It often takes her several drafts to please the finicky princess, and this will be no exception.

“Mama?”

Catra’s eyes flick to her office doorway and find Aisha leaning against the doorframe, sucking her clawed thumb. Her blue and green eyes are wide and attentive, looking up at Catra in that adorable way that always makes her heart melt. Catra spares her only a small smile before turning back to her work, because if she looks for too long she’ll get distracted, and Sparkles will get up her ass again about timelines and her commitment level and shit. “What’s up, kitten?”

“Nuffin’.” Aisha slinks shyly into the room, but there’s nothing shy about the way she latches onto Catra’s leg, rubbing her cheek against the outside of her thigh. Catra nibbles the end of her pencil, brow furrowed in concentration. A few seconds pass. “Mama?”

“Yes, my love?” she says absently, still puzzling over the design.

Before Catra even realizes she let go of her leg, Aisha has sprung up onto the desktop in one hop. She sprawls on her back, limbs and tail sweeping across the canvas and knocking Catra’s drafting tools out of place. Catra attempts to give her a reprimanding glare, but any hostility melts right out of her when the kitten looks up at her with half-lidded eyes and a hopeful little “Prbt?”

The soft laugh that echoes out of her chest is full of adoration and affection. “Alright, kiddo. I can take a break.”

Scooping her daughter up off the table, Catra cradles her to her chest and strolls to the couch in the living room. Easing herself down, she shifts to the side and lies back, letting her head loll back against a cushion propped up against one of the arms. Aisha starts circling around on her hands and knees, trying to pick a comfortable position, and Catra rolls her eyes fondly. She was always a squirmer, even in the womb. Catra agreed to carry her because pregnancy would interfere less with her work than Adora’s, but there were many days she second-guessed that decision. The squirmy days in particular, and the pukey days.

On the bright side, pregnancy was a great excuse to make Adora wait on her hand and foot for the better part of a year. Adora, of course, was as committed and determined in that role as she was in everything else she did. Catra has to admit she was spoiled rotten with foot rubs and ear scritches, with the way Adora catered to her every whim and indulged her bizarre cravings, culinary and… otherwise.

Finally picking a spot, Aisha slumps back down on top of Catra, her dirty blonde hair spilling over stubby but triangular ears. She kneads a little at Catra’s breast before curling up into a ball, closing her eyes with a tiny sigh. Catra’s claws instinctively move to scratch at her messy mane and she purrs, nuzzling into her mother’s warmth.

“I love you, kitten,” murmurs Catra.

Aisha purrs a little louder in response and lifts her head enough to butt up against Catra’s hand before settling down again. When Catra scratches a little behind her ears her claws flex, pricking and tugging at Catra’s shirt. Catra chuckles and gently unhooks them, then moves her hands to pet her daughter’s back and coax her into sleep.

Admittedly, Catra had worried her half human spawn would be nothing like her, the feline genes too diluted to have any effect. But in vulnerable moments like these, she can’t see anything but a kitten. A lively little kitten with a huge heart, full of love and craving that love in return. She reminds Catra so much of herself at that age, only with a healthy dose of Adora’s clueless optimism. Then again, Aisha has no reason to be anything but. Unlike Catra, she is not and will never be starved for love and affection. She’s going to grow up with real parents. Parents who love her.

Catra can still remember what Shadow Weaver said to her all those years ago, the words she used to justify all the ways she abused her. _”Nothing was ever easy for me, either. Why should it be any different for you?”_ Catra almost wishes the old witch was still alive so she could give a decent rebuttal, now that she’s spent enough time outside the Horde to understand love and family.

Namely, why should it be anything but different? The last thing she wants is for her child to suffer, at her hands or in her absence. Strangely, Shadow Weaver’s neglect hurt more than her physical blows. Catra won’t pass any of that on to the next generation. She realized years ago that passing on her pain did nothing to heal her. It’s much harder to fix things than it was to destroy them, but all that destruction left her feeling empty inside.

After years of rebuilding, that emptiness has mostly subsided. Her heart is mending but full of love, bursting at the seams. There’s room in its cracked walls for Adora and this little one.

Giving her napping daughter a little scratch under the chin, Catra lets her eyes slip shut with a contented sigh. Work can wait. Love can’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're married with a kid because the gays are allowed picket fences too oKAY? It's not heteronormative if you're not hetero. /rant


	2. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear lord, who else needs some happy Catradora after season 3?
> 
> Here's part 2 for y'all, featuring more tooth-rotting fluff and my season 3 OTP: Catra x Therapy.

The daytime moon beats down on Adora’s head as she traverses the lanes of simple houses comprising Defectors’ Row. That’s not the neighborhood’s actual name, but everyone calls it that anyway. It stands out from the rest of Bright Moon and all its colors and eccentricities, its uniformity appalling to many who grew up outside the Fright Zone. To Adora, it’s comforting. It’s home.

Catra’s design for the neighborhood raised a lot of eyebrows when they first presented it. Bow just about fainted. Glimmer was concerned about making the defectors and refugees from the Fright Zone feel unwelcome if they provided them with second-class housing (which was funny, seeing as she’d been reluctant to allow the migration in the first place). But when Adora recounted how uncomfortable she’d been when she first moved to Bright Moon, how all the pomp and luxury had made her feel so lost and out of place, she was able to convince them.

Besides, the houses are hardly second-class, at least to anyone who’s not a princess. They have all the necessary amenities, they’re just small and simply designed. Wastefulness was an egregious sin in the Fright Zone. No one who grew up there needs a waterfall for showering.

Adora shares a few smiles and nods with former comrades as she nears her own home, where her wife and daughter wait for her. The thought only makes her smile grow. Their home is in the core of Defectors’ Row, inside the sprawling expansions that were added as more and more former soldiers left the Fright Zone in the years following the war. Many of them stayed in the decaying infrastructure at first because it was all they knew and they were afraid of who might attack them outside those walls. Word of the welcoming atmosphere here spread, though, and now much of the former army lives in Bright Moon. Not only that, they’re some of its most loyal and productive citizens.

“Take that, Sparkles”, Catra would say. Catra has said, actually.

Reaching their front stoop, Adora eases the door open in case Aisha is napping. If Catra just put her down and Adora wakes her up she’ll be in the doghouse for the rest of the day. Sighing in relief as she escapes the sweltering summer heat, she wipes her brow caked in sweat and sawdust. A nap actually sounds pretty good right about now.

Adora returns her sword to its home on a high shelf in their coat closet, then pulls off her work boots and tiptoes into the house. When she peeks into the living room, her heart just about melts at the sight of her two girls napping together on the couch. A soft rumble that could snoring or could be purring emanates from the heap of feline, Aisha’s tail swishing slightly over Catra’s stomach in her sleep.

The urge to join the pile is strong, but the urge to shower is slightly stronger. Even Adora can smell how stinky she is, and her sense of smell is not nearly as good as theirs. Besides, she’s sore and her skin is all grody and itchy. Heading for the bathroom, she pauses a minute to crack her neck and stretch her aching limbs. She may be She-Ra, but she’s no spring chicken anymore. She misses the boundless energy and insane recovery capabilities she had when she was eighteen, but not the heartache. Things are better now.

She returns to the living room some fifteen minutes later, damp hair down and brushing the tops of her shoulders. Finding Catra and Aisha still asleep, she releases a pleased sigh and stops a few feet away. Just watching. Watching the soft flicks of Aisha’s tail as Catra’s chest rises and falls beneath her, watching the way Catra’s ear twitches in her sleep.

It takes a couple more ear flicks in rapid succession for Adora to clue in, her sappy smile turning into a worried frown. She’d chalked Catra’s heavy breathing up to the kitten weighing down her ribcage, but now she scans Catra’s body for more signs of nightmares. Her heart sinks as she registers Catra’s tense muscles and the erratic movement behind her eyelids. Then Catra shudders slightly, a tiny broken whimper rising up from her throat.

Rushing to Catra’s aid, as has always been her first impulse, Adora kneels beside the couch. Sweeping a stray lock of hair from Catra’s forehead, she plants a kiss on the deep lines set in her brow. “Catra, wake up.”

Catra stirs a little, mumbling incoherently, but stays under. Finding one of her hands, Adora gives the twitching fingers a squeeze and moves her mouth to Catra’s ear.

“Wake up, kitten.”

Catra’s eyes pop open with a gasp, fluttering as she gets her bearings. The more she takes in, the more she’s able to control her breathing. The light in the room comes from the outdoors, not a glowing runestone. The pressure on her chest is not a vice grip of magic, but a small child. The hand stroking her cheek is warm and soft, if a bit calloused. And the eyes… those beautiful eyes looking down on her are blue.

Sighing in relief, Catra relaxes back into the couch. “Hey, Adora,” she drawls, voice heavy with sleep.

Smiling reflexively, Adora answers, “Hey, Catra.” She gives her wife a peck on the lips, hand trailing from her chin down to her collarbone. “You okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” mumbles Catra, eyes on Aisha as she gives her head a little scratch.

Adora’s chest aches. Over the last decade she’s gotten a lot better at reading Catra’s body language, understanding when she’s feigning toughness or being less than honest. Or both. Her thumb drags across Catra’s chest, catching on the collar of her shirt. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Nah.” Catra waves her off with a playful smile. “It’s just the usual, Weaver stuff. Nothing horribly traumatic or whatever.”

Adora would beg to differ about the traumatic part, but she’s also gotten a lot better at understanding and respecting Catra’s boundaries. So she forces a smile and says, “Okay, love.” Her eyes flick down to their daughter and that smile turns genuine, spreading wide across her cheeks. “Gods, she’s cute.”

“Course she is. Have you seen her moms?”

Chuckling deeply, Adora leans in and kisses Catra again. That simple peck turns into more when Catra’s eyes glint and a clawed hand cups the back of her head, pulling her back in. Catra hums into the kiss as it deepens, claws carding through Adora’s hair as she slides her hand down the back of her neck. Adora winces as Catra finds a particularly tender spot on her shoulders, and Catra squints in concern.

“Sore?” she asks, giving the tight flesh a soft squeeze.

Adora whines in discomfort, nuzzling Catra’s forehead. “Yeah.”

Catra chuckles, grazing a thumb over Adora’s neck. She always relishes opportunities to be the caretaker, given how much of that Adora has done over the years. She’s never quite gotten over that insecurity, but to be fair, Adora doesn’t exactly complain. “Want a back rub later?”

“Mm, please,” murmurs Adora. Glancing up at the very appealing scene before her, she pleads, “Can I squeeze in?”

The tiny pout on Adora’s face makes Catra’s heart swell. As if she could ever say no to that face. Nodding permission, she wiggles toward Adora, careful not to jostle the sleeping kitten too much. Adora stands and rounds the couch, hopping over the back to wedge herself in beside Catra.

Adora settles her head in the crook of Catra’s shoulder, relaxing into her warmth. Then Catra’s arm wraps around her and pulls her impossibly closer, and Adora swears that if she could purr, she would. She settles for humming as she nuzzles Catra’s chest, inhaling the comforting scent of her wife’s skin and fur.

Sighing contentedly, Adora turns her head and focuses on Aisha, gently rubbing her fingertips into the kitten’s skull. Aisha stirs slightly and opens her mouth with a quiet but jaw-breaking yawn before nuzzling back into Catra’s chest. Like mother, like daughter.

“We made this together,” Adora says in awe.

“Mm, I think it’s the best thing we ever made,” muses Catra. “‘Cept for maybe that fart balloon thing.” Snorting at the memory, Adora turns her face into Catra’s neck to suppress her giggles, and Catra’s ears prick up with pride. Gods, how she loves making Adora laugh. That was one of the things she missed most when they were estranged, hating and longing for each other from across enemy lines. Smirking as she lightly scratches Adora’s scalp, she remarks, “Still can’t believe that was your idea.”

“Shadow Weaver’s face…” Adora laughs harder, still struggling to keep quiet. Unfortunately her violent shaking disrupts Aisha again and the kitten’s ear flicks with displeasure. Taking deep breaths to calm herself, Adora finally recovers enough to think. And recall the rest of the incident. Eyes flicking up in concern, she grazes her fingertips over Catra’s cheek. “I’m sorry she blamed you.”

It’s not like Catra wasn’t already thinking about it, but hearing Adora say it feels like a bucket of ice water being dumped on her head. She grimaces, the ache in her chest spreading through her core and down her arms.

“That’s just how things were,” Catra says simply, averting her eyes as she feels them clouding over. Her therapist would be disappointed in her right now, she always says how Catra needs to acknowledge her trauma and stop downplaying it. Talking about it is supposedly healthy, but it’s so hard to do, especially with Adora. Not because she doesn’t trust Adora, but because Adora was so deeply involved and she hates making her feel bad. And, admittedly, some part of her is still afraid that Adora sees her as a weakling needing protection.

Catra knows she shouldn’t think that. It’s an ‘unhealthy thought pattern’ she needs to break. But it’s hard not to fall back into all her fears whenever she gets that feeling at the back of her neck that makes her whole body tense for fight or flight.

The feeling of a warm hand flattening on her collarbone pulls her out of the darkness of her mind. She sighs, focusing on the pressure and warmth. That hand is an anchor, reminding her that she isn’t locked in cold, red tendrils. She’s safe, she’s with Adora. And she’s free. 

When Adora turns her chin with a finger, Catra lets her. Adora holds her gaze intently, fingers moving back to scrape blunted nails behind her ear. Catra’s eyes fall shut with a gentle mewl before she forces them back open, not wanting to miss a second of this. Her wife’s eyes are trained on her, shining in adoration, and she’s never gotten tired of that look.

“I love you so much,” whispers Adora.

Catra’s ears prick up again and she tries not to blush, with only moderate success. Smirking to compensate, she answers, “I know.” Adora makes that pouty face again and she laughs, chest rocking under the weight of their slumbering child. Recovering her breath, Catra rubs a thumb over Adora’s cheekbone, her grin wide and toothy. “I love you too, dummy.”

Adora’s smile is bright as the daytime moon, lighting up the room and Catra’s whole life. How Catra got through all that time without her, she doesn’t know. Back then she wanted to prove she could live without her. She succeeded, but in hindsight it all seems so silly. It doesn’t matter if she can live without Adora. She doesn’t want to.

Between the fingers that have snuck back behind her ear and the moonbeam crawling up her legs, Catra’s on the verge of dozing off again. Releasing a breathy sigh, she mumbles, “Mm, sleep with me.”

“It’s not like you need to ask,” cracks Adora.

Catra opens her eyes just enough to glare at Adora’s saucy grin. “I’m not asking. And that’s not what I meant, for once.”

Craning her neck, Adora plants a soft kiss on Catra’s forehead. “Go to sleep, Catra. I won’t be far behind. I’m not going anywhere.”

Catra’s eyelids flutter but fail to open, and Adora smiles so hard her cheeks hurt. There’s nothing cuter on Etheria than a sleepy kitty. Catra mewls softly and murmurs, “You promise?”

An ache spreads in Adora’s chest, like her heart is swelling and trying to crack her ribcage. She’s broken promises before, but this is one she hopes to keep forever.

“I promise,” she whispers into Catra’s ear.

That ear flicks against Adora’s nose and she giggles, but Catra is too far gone to care. Within moments her breathing evens out and a soft rumble rises in her chest. Adora presses her ear back to Catra’s chest and absorbs the comforting sound, eyes falling shut as her fingers wind in Catra’s shirt.

She hums, opening her eyes again as she reaches out for Aisha, the other love of her life. Still not quite sleepy enough to join in their slumber, Adora occupies herself stroking her daughter’s thin coat of fur. When she scratches gently at the base of Aisha’s tail the kitten releases this tiny, high-pitched mewl, and that pain strikes in Adora’s chest again. Her heart is bursting with love, filled to the brim by these two girls she loves more than anything.

Catra was partly right. This home is the best thing they’ve made together. They built this house, they made this child, and they repaired their relationship, finding the cracks and filling them with love and compassion. It’s still a work in progress, maybe it always will be. But Adora’s never been the type to back down from a challenge.

Her blood slows and she relaxes into Catra again, draping an arm across her stomach. Warm and content, she lets her wife’s soft breaths lull her into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a couple outtakes but no real plans for any more chapters, so this is probably it for this story. Short and sweet. Hope you all enjoyed. :D


End file.
